


Allergies

by LunaSeleneYueIahChandraMoon9696



Category: Taiyuu OCT, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/F, Original Character(s), Taiyuu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24460441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaSeleneYueIahChandraMoon9696/pseuds/LunaSeleneYueIahChandraMoon9696
Summary: 5 times Ozen is allergic to Lyrimon and one time she is not.
Relationships: Lyrimon x Ozen, Ozemon
Kudos: 2





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Ozen, or this universe, me and Lyrimon are just happy to be in it.

It started during lunch on the second day. The students had just started to get to know each other and the campus. The more social of Ozens classmates going to the center of the cafeteria to talk and eat while others, like herself, had chosen to take their meals scattered about elsewhere.

Ozen had found herself a good spot out in the corner of the cafeteria, with a full view of the large grassy courtyard between the cafeteria and the dorms. As she pulled out her lunch, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye and turned to see a figure in the center of the courtyard at the edge of a copse of trees.

Ozen watched as this person, a very strange figure with 3 arms, one of them a crustacean claw of some sort, horns, and some very oddly shaped legs, picked up a large slab of stone. It was around the size of their torso, very large and slightly oblong, but this person raised it above their head like it weighed nothing and brought it down hard over their knee.

Ozen thought she could hear the crack of stone against hard, skin-covered, bone all the way from here as she watched the rock split, crack, and crumble against the strength of this strange person.

Something warm and prickly spread in Ozens chest. A very small feeling that dusted itself on her face, making her feel hot and slightly uncomfortable. She could swear her heart was beating just a tad faster too, knocking her off balance and squeezing her lungs so she couldn’t breathe right.

There was a conversation going on behind her, the ghost kid was saying "Awah! no thank you, I'm a-allergic to pecans." 

_ Huh. _ Ozen thought.  _ Maybe it's an allergy _


	2. Addressing

_ This is probably an allergy  _ Ozen thought, as she watched the rock breaker, who she now knew as Lyrimon Draconia Spellman or just Spellman, take up an entire table at the common room to study.

She wasn't even doing anything right now, just looking over handouts, textbooks, and documents to compile a list of notes. But somehow Ozen still felt that hot prickle in her. That strange heat in her face, and the odd sensation of her heart taking up too much space in her chest.

If this was an allergy, then it was a strange one. She had done some research and discovered some things. First, allergy symptoms are different for everyone, which might explain why no one seems to have symptoms like hers.

Second, she only seemed to be allergic to one very specific person. Lyrimon was currently completely oblivious to the vague discomfort she put the teal haired teenager through by simply existing, but she was definitely the allergen to all this.

Third, it was very, very confusing. Her body shouldn't be reacting this way to anything, much less a person. She was a rock, she was strong and silent and immovable she was-

"Oi, Ozen, what're you lookin at?"

Still staring. Great.

Ozen started from her thoughts, though not visibly startled in any way. She was, however, surprised enough to just blurt out what she had been thinking "I think I might be allergic to you."

Lyrimon blinked. Once, twice, and considered that "Well fuck then, I'll try to fix that." Then she went back to work, not sparing Ozen another glance. The heat in Ozens chest and face spiked, and she decided now was probably a good time to make a tactical retreat. So she stood and left. Leaving her allergen behind. Slowly the heat in Ozens chest began to cool. It seemed like she would be avoiding Spellman for some time now.


	3. Attempting

It's 9 am on a Sunday. Ozen had told Lyrimon about her suspected allergy 3 days ago, and she hadn't seen her since. Ozen tried to think of it as a good thing because logically it was. The unknown of her allergic reactions had been eliminated. Which was good, right?

But Ozen found herself missing the louder American. Missing her randomly coming up to Ozen to ask to spar, missing how she'd work in common rooms with too many papers and texts scattered about, and maybe, just a tiny bit missing the warm prickly feeling that filled her lungs and warmed her face.

It had been three days. Whenever Lyrimon detected Ozen was nearby, she'd up it and leave without another word. While the mutant was in another class and her habit of not eating lunch in the cafeteria meant that Ozen didn't see much of her anyway. There was always a small handful of times Ozen did see her, and those times had now been eliminated.

Now when Ozen walked into the common room or the kitchen, Lyrimon would simply find the nearest exit, door, window, vent, didn't matter and slip out. Quite easily considering she was rubbery and flexible for the last week. The consistency of a sea slug.

Then Ozen heard. Kiru and Ameko were talking, seated at the bar. "-we should get her a pair of crutches or something" Ameko was saying "She could need them."

"I thought Arakan gave her a leg?" Kiru asked, "I'm also pretty sure she has her own pair of crutches."

"Really? owo? okay then, still, I don't like the thought of Lyrie-chan being injured." Ameko seemed to melt against the counter, pushing her Capri-sun around with one finger in a nervous manner. Kiru said something in return, but Ozen had stopped listening.

_ Spellman? Injured? How? _ Ozen recalled the first time she had seen her, breaking a rock over her knee like it was nothing. She seemed strong, confident, and unbreakable. Ozen made a decision, fully preparing to go up to Lyrimons dorm and ask how she got injured when Lyrimon herself walked in.

Speak of the devil I guess.

At first glance, she didn't seem injured. In fact, she seemed fine, if very different from how she looked last week. Then if one actually looked, one could see that she was mostly being held up by the ring of tentacles replacing her arms. How she walked leaning slightly to the right like her left leg was damaged. And when she got past the couch, Ozen could see that one of her legs was heavily armored, like a rhino beetle or a knight, while the other was a stiff prosthetic.

As Ozen took in her appearance, the object of her allergies simply continued hobbling forward. Soon Ozen realized she was coming straight towards her for the first time in days. Ozen considered the possibilities as she felt her symptoms rear their head again. 

She was currently sitting on a couch in the corner of the common room. There was nothing of practical value behind her, and there wasn’t anything of interest on the rapidly shortening path between the two girls. As the distance closed Ozen could swear her heart was trying to get as far away from Spellman as it could by beating straight through her chest.

Then the mutant was in front of her. Towering over Ozens seated body and looking down. She leaned in close while keeping her legs straight so she was bent at a right angle. Her tentacles splayed on either side of Ozen, effectively holding herself up and caging Ozen in. Leveling her brown-eyed gaze to bore straight into Ozens soul.

“Still allergic?”

For a moment Ozen didn’t say anything, too overwhelmed with the proximity to what Ozen realized was probably the greatest display of refined power in this school. Then she nodded. The heat was back with a vengeance. Now almost her entire body was warm and faintly tingly. Feeling the way pollen looks. Then Lyrimon straightened up with a sigh and Ozen could feel herself regaining the ability to breathe.

“Damn it. Sorry.”

Without another word, Lyrimon hobbled away from Ozen. The heat that seemed to follow the mutant dissipating into the air, leaving Ozen a little too cool for comfort. She found herself missing the heat that came with proximity to Lyrimon. Ozen sank back into the cushions. She had some really bad allergies.


	4. Complaining

Lyrimon liked to call her sisters on speakerphone. It was the easiest way to build the illusion that they were all there. So once a day, every day, she’d dial the other 2/3rds of the Spellman triplets, then plonk down on a couch just to talk. Always in English marred by curses.

Lyrimon was currently a transparent abomination situated on the couch in the common room ranting on and on in fluent slang filled English about one particular subject that had been irking her for the past couple of weeks.

"-and she keeps looking at me! What does that even mean!?" From the other end of the line, there were twin sighs. "For the love of fuckin god Lyrimon, why don't you just ask her what that means?" says Lorelei, who was almost always down for some drama, and even she seemed kind of tired of this debacle of a human being.

"I tried, and she told me that she's  _ allergic _ to me some fucking how so I have to spend as little time around Ozen as fucking possible."

Now Laramie replied "I'm still pretty sure she's not allergic to you. If she was allergic to any part of you, then you’ve gone through so much change that whatever it is should be long gone by now. I mean, you don’t even have pigment in your skin right now." Laramie admonishes.

Lyrimon sighs "I know, I know, it’s a problem. I’ve gotten rid of just about fucking everything I have that isn’t a regular human thing and she’s still allergic! Maybe it’s just. . . I dunno, an excuse not to be around this fucking eyesore."

There are twin groans from her sisters "None of that Mon, if she hates you for no good reason, you give her a good one." Lorelei says "But honestly, it’s still probably not an allergy."

“I hope it’s not an allergy, I want to spar with her. I want to be friends for the love of fucking god. Heck, I’d settle for her just being able to sit next to me without fucking dying.”

Lorelei chortles “she’s not going to die if she sits next to you, that’s ridiculous.”

“Well, I don’t know that! If I end up killing Ozen by just fucking existing nearby then I’m moving to Antarctica”

“Don’t you dare move to Antarctica you freak,” Lorelei says

Laramie, ever the responsible one, chimes in “Okay then freaks, we should really get to bed now. It’s nearly 10.”

Lyrimon snorts "You're the freak. Goodnight then." There's a long raucous spiral of goodnights that drags for nearly an entire minute before Lyrimon hangs up. She stands and stretches, then begins to make her way back to her room.

Just as she takes her first steps, Ozen emerges from the hallway. Lyrimon tenses for a moment, thinking she might have overheard the conversation Lyrimon just had that revealed a lot of feelings. Lyrimon tried to remember how Ozen was on English and recalled that she was bilingual. Shit.

But Ozens face was stern and unreadable as ever. She gave Lyrimon her customary stiff nod when they passed each other and that was it. Putting any thoughts Lyrimon had of being overheard to rest.

She completely missed the light dusting of pink on Ozens otherwise very pale skin.


	5. Planning

“You’re allergic to what now?” Hiraku stares at Ozen incredulously. Ozen repeats herself.

"I think I'm allergic to Spellman."

Hiraku blinks a little. Then he pulls out his notebook and a pen. Then in his Medical Professional Voice, asks "What are your symptoms?" also putting up his Medical Professional Face.

"Increased heart rate, increased body temperature, impairment of speech and judgment and. . . yeah, that's it."

Hiraku writes that down then squints at his list ". . . Ozen, these aren't allergy symptoms."

Ozen raises an eyebrow "what do you mean?"

Hiraku pockets his list "Well I'll have to consult an expert, but I think you may have a condition called 'feelings'" Ozen blinks. 

". . . is it terminal?" she asks.

"Luckily, no, but as I said, I will have to consult an expert," Hiraku explains, pocketing his pen and notes. Ozen nods. "Alright then."

Then Hiraku turns around and calls across the common room "Tokachi? Can you come over here? We have a 568." Ameko looks up from where she just stuck a small tray of homemade candy onto the counter to cool. "Awah, I'll be right there!"

As she makes her way across the commons, Ozen turns to Hiraku "What's a 568?" she asks.

"Emotionally dense blockage," Hiraku says, and before she can process the meaning of his 568, Ameko is there. She looks up at Ozen "What seems to be the problem citizen?"

For a moment there Ozen thinks that Ameko really looks like a hero. Strong, responsible, worthy of looking up to. Then the moment passes and Ozen answers her question "I'm allergic to Spellman." Ozen says, as though that is a perfectly reasonable thing to say.

Ameko's eyes widened. "oh. OH." then she turns to Hiraku "Yeah, this is a 568 alright." She turns back to Ozen. "Ozzie-chan-"

"Ozen"

"We have been over this, Ozzie-chan, can you please meet me in the training arena? Like, right now? uwu?" she asks, not missing a beat. Ozen blinks "To spar?" Ameko nods

"Yeah, to spar!" 

Ozen shrugs “Okay I guess."

"Good! Thank you Ozzie-chan! uwu." Then she hops off to check on her candy. Ozen turns to ask Hiraku a question, only to find he's already gone. So she does the next most logical thing and gets up to go to the training arena.


	6. Confronting

Ozen had been waiting for around 3 minutes when the noise started. It sounded like yelling. The noise gradually increased for a good solid 5 minutes until the large muscular centaur that is Lyrimon is shoved into the arena. She's spouting fire and curses like a volcano erupting on an island full of sailors.

"-I SWEAR TO FUCK ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT I'M FUCKING GOING!" Lyrimon shouts as she's forcefully ejected out the door and into the arena.

"Good!" Someone shouts, then the sliding gate to the arena closes with a bang. Lyrimon huffs, a spurt of fire accompanying it. She sees Ozen and tips her head back, closing her eyes for a moment.

Ozen takes a good look at Lyrimon. She is massive this week. Once again adopting the form of a centaur, a cream-colored horse from the waist down. But it's stronger than it was the last time, more muscular. 

Her torso only reinforces the idea. She's wearing a tank top, showing off the muscles in her arms and stomach. One of her arms even ended in a wicked-looking circular saw blade. What's most impressive about her this week though, is her hair.

Ozen had heard her say something about how having no hair last week made her want to have glorious 70's hair. And it truly is glorious. A mane rivaling that of a lion spilled out from her scalp, cascading down her back in a huge cloud of dark hair. Only held out of her face by a set of stiff ears and horns, the only thing keeping the explosion of hair pointed back. In this lighting, it looked like it was streaked in gold. She turns to Ozen.

"Look, Ozen, I'm really fucking sorry about this. But Hiraku insisted that it was a 'medical emergency' or some shit, and Tokachi then fucking said it was even worse because it was an 'emotional medical emergency' and suddenly the entire fucking class gets up and starts fucking pushing-"

As Lyrimon talks, she walks forward. Each gentle thud of a sharp unshod hoof hitting the sand seemed to kick Ozen's heart rate up a few notches. She stopped listening to Lyrimon talk in order to panic. Which doesn't do any good.

Soon enough, Lyrimon was right in front of her, towering a good half a foot over Ozen's head. "- any fucking way, apparently, I have to fight you." as she looked down, Ozen thought the mutant didn't seem particularly unhappy about that fact.

Suddenly, Ozen feels something, which in itself is already a once in a lifetime phenomenon, but this feeling surges up through her with the force of a tidal wave and comes tearing out of her mouth. "I would like nothing more."

Now while her voice and expression are as level as ever, Ozens symptoms are roaring through her. She's far warmer than she should be, and her heart had turned from a muscle to a jackhammer, but for whatever strange reason, the simple act of voicing her feelings seems to cool her just a little.

Lyrimon blinks. Then a wide, slow grin spreads across her face. "Alright then, I guess we're doing this." Ozen nods and Lyrimon pulls a roll of tape out of her shirt pocket. As she tapes up her saw blade for obvious reasons, she trots backwards. Ozen does too until they are equal distances from the walls of the arena and each other. Lyrimon sticks the tape back into her shirt pocket and calls to Ozen. "Fire?" she asks from across the arena.

Ozen nods. She would never spar Lyrimon with that particular hold barred. Lyrimon's grin, if possible, gets wider. Then with no further preamble, she charges. Ozen braces herself, expecting the impact, when suddenly Lyrimon makes a sharp turn, snatches something off her waist, and chucks it.

Ozens vision is flooded with a smog of yellow dust. She shields her eyes, but can't see anything. She needs a clue, something, anything, to figure out where her opponent is. Then she hears it. The dull whooshing thump of fire emerging into the marginally cooler air. Ozen ducks towards the sound, knowing her opponent, being much taller than her, had to have aimed a little too high.

Ozen could feel the air heat up drastically as she rushed toward the sound. When the heat reached its peak, Ozen stopped and dropped, quirk activated. For a moment there was nothing. Then the thud of hooves being tripped and a sharp piercing whinny. The temperature spikes from the torrent of fire that rips through the air. 

The fire lights up the yellow dust with a dull glow as Lyrimon crashes to the ground, tripped up by her opponent. The dust is beginning to settle, and Ozen can see Lyrimon, coated in gold, scramble to her feet. Ozen stands, the dust is mostly gone now as Lyrimon shakes the pollen out of her mane. For a moment, between the firelight and the pollen, it looks like Lyrimon is glowing.

The first thing the mutant sees when she blinks the dust out of her eyes is Ozen, right there. Perfectly un-prepared and red in the face, staring at the sheer power of her opponent. Lyrimon reacts, swinging her spinning bladed arm at Ozen. Though padded, it still hurt and Ozen was rocketed diagonally away from her.

An idea struck, and Ozen simply rolled with the blow, off to the centaurs side. Quick as anything, she gets on, mounting onto Lyrimons unsaddled back and grabbing onto anything she can reach as her opponent reacts exactly like any self-respecting horse would if someone suddenly got on their back.

She bucks, nearly throwing Ozen off with the first roll of her muscular body. She shouts as Ozen grabs onto her thick mane of hair. The tealnette is being jostled about too fast to truly activate her quirk, not to mention her thoughts are being scrambled by the proximity to her allergen. She's not quite sure if the pounding in her chest is due to the physical exertion or the closeness to Lyrimon, but either way, she's not nearly calm enough to use her quirk.

Then with one mighty buck, Ozen is thrown off, sailing over Lyrimons head. Ozen makes one last desperate grab and by some miracle, snatches a handful of one enamel-coated horn. Lyrimon shakes her head, and in a blind attempt at saving herself turns and slams Ozen into a wall.

All the wind is forcefully ejected from Ozens lungs as Lyrimon presses her into the vertical surface. One large bluntly clawed hand takes up most of Ozens torso as the blade replacing the other digs into the wall by her left thigh. The mutant's left thumb is buried in the wall just inches away from Ozens left ear. 

Ozen is still holding Lyrimons horns, and as her own arms are rather trapped in their raised position, their faces are very, very close together. They're both panting, contributing more heat to what is already a very warm area between Lyrimons' natural body heat and Ozen's allergies.

For a moment, they simply exist, breathing hard and waiting for their heart rates to go down far enough for either of them to speak. Then just like the first time, it's Lyrimon who makes the first move.

"Still allergic?" she asks, brown-eyed gaze boring into Ozens blue ones. Slowly, Ozen shakes her head, and Lyrimon smiles.

"Good"

and then she leans in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus:
> 
> "So why is a 568 a medical emergency?"
> 
> "Simple, emotional constipation is very detrimental to your health."
> 
> Bonus Bonus:
> 
> "I thought you wanted me to go to the arena to spar"
> 
> "I never said who I wanted you to spar with uwu"


End file.
